Every sensation was heightened.
I could feel the curve of his teeth embedded in my skin. The contrast of his lips, soft against my breast. Then the scrape of stubble on his chin, pleasant but dull compared to the sharpness of his bite. He sucked, drawing my blood into his mouth.
“Arran,” I moaned, every vein in my body sizzling in awareness. “Arran, yesss.”
He pulled his mouth away from my skin, pressing his lips to mine. Our tongues tangled, the taste of my blood coppery and sweet but mixed with the essence of him.Oh yes, it was intoxicating to taste the way we joined together.
But that was not all. The twin wounds where his canines had broken my skin bled.
My senses screamed in awareness, tracking the thin line of blood as it slid down my breast, circling around my nipple. Another second, and it would slide downward. Further, over the hills of my stomach, toward my pussy.
Arran did not let it get that far. He kneeled over me and caught that rivulet of blood against with his tongue just before it reached my navel. Traced it upward, over my stomach, turning his head so he did not miss a single drop as his mouth curved up my breast.
He reached my nipple, twirling his tongue around it, biting. Not hard enough to draw blood this time—no, there was no need. That wetness that around the taut bud was part Arran, part me.
He had tasted my blood before, but never like this. While his mouth worshipped my breasts, his fingers slid higher.
He pressed at the wound, coating his fingertips in my blood. The pain was sharp, intense, but not too much. Especially when he slid his hand inside my leggings and found my clit.
Arran did not tease, now. He massaged my clit in hard, tight circles that drew cries of pleasure from deep in my chest. It did something to me, that massaging, knowing that it wasmethat provided the lubrication. Not just my desire, but the very blood from my veins.
At the edge of my awareness, I felt his other hand in my hair. Stroking, slowly rubbing at the roots. Then moving around to my face, pressing against my mouth.
An offering.
I wanted to do it—to sink my teeth into the mound of flesh of flesh at the base of his thumb. I wanted to smell both of us, taste the way we mingled together.
But I couldn’t. Something inside of me recoiled with fear. I could not hurt him—not again. Not after Avalon.
“Arran,” I whimpered again. Even in his lust, he heard the plea in my voice. His hands were on my face, holding me steady, his forehead pressed against mine.
“Stay with me.”
It was a command I desperately wanted to obey. I answered by pressing my mouth to his and tasting myself on his lips.
Without pulling away, somehow still avoiding my healing leg, Arran lowered me to lie on my fur cloak, now spread beneath us. I recognized the motions of his hands, urgent now—pulling down my leggings, then his own.
Then his cock was nudging at my entrance. For the first time, I wanted to curse the darkness of the cave that had, until that moment, made everything about this even more erotic. I longed to push myself up onto my elbows and watch the moment he slid his cock into my cunt, to see him pull himself in and out, his shaft shiny and wet withme.
I lifted my uninjured leg, opening myself for him, trying to get him deeper, closer. Arran caught it, lifting it to his shoulder.
He held tight as he slid inside of me, deeper and deeper. No easing in, no testing some of his length and pulling out. He knew I could take it, and the arch of my hips said what I needed—every inch of him.Now.
There were no more words between us. Only the rough gasps as he pumped into me again and again. Maybe the wound on my breast had healed. I was too far gone to care. All I knew was that Arran was inside of me.MyArran. My mate.
He pressed a kiss to the inside of my ankle. Then more—snagged his teeth on the bone, and grazed just deep enough to draw a well of blood. Too dark to see, but I knew it was there by the way his mouth fitted around it and sucked hard. I felt myself filling his mouth, filling him. A second later, his cock began topulse inside of me, spurt after spurt of his come coating the insides of my pussy. The heat of it, the way we filled each other in time—I lost myself entirely.
Who and what I was did not matter as I cascaded over the edge, climax ripping through me. My pussy clenched, milking every last bit of come from Arran’s cock until my legs were shaking with the force of my orgasm.
Arran pulled his mouth away from my ankle, and I whimpered as loudly as if he’d pulled his cock from me. The feeling of loss was just as profound. But then his tongue was back, smoothing over the cut that had already begun to heal. His hands stroked down my leg, constant and smooth until I finally stopped shaking.
“Arran,” I whispered into the darkness. Half plea, half prayer. All love.
“Veyka.” He lowered himself down to the fur cloak, not nearly big enough for two, especially of our sizes.
Good thing we were one.
Avoiding my injured leg, he settling himself, tugging me flush against him. I did not resist. How could I—in this moment, just for a moment, everything was perfect.
